


Kin

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8216797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: Because every ship needs an incest AU. Tyrell is Elliot's half-brother.





	1. Chapter 1

I wake up in a hospital bed to find Tyrell Wellick staring at me. This is disconcerting. 

He shot me. I can't move without wincing in pain. We're alone together in a hospital room.

I am alone with Tyrell Wellick. I am afraid. My heart is beating rabbit-fast. 

He smiles at me. 

“Bonsoir, Elliot.”

“What, aren't you happy to see your big brother?”

I stare at him.

“What?”

I need some more morphine.

Did he say brother? Is this a joke? Do I have any more family members I don't remember who are gonna come out of the woodwork? 

No. No. He's fucking with me. Look at us – look at him. Tall, dark blond, blue-eyed, an Aryan wet dream. 

Then take a look at me. Short, scrawny, bugged out eyes, half-Egyptian... No way the two of us can share a gene pool. Mr. Robot would have known. Darlene would have said. Something. 

Tyrell gives me a lupine grin. Bares his teeth like the predator he is. A shark who smells blood in the water. My blood.

“What are you thinking, Elliot? Tell me,” he says, leaning closer.

Fuck. Too close. I try to scoot away up the bed and jar my wound in the process. Let loose a hiss.

“You're not my brother,” I mumble through lips too clenched to move. 

“Are you sure about that?”

No. I'm not sure of anything anymore. And he knows it.

“Come now, Elliot. Don't tell me you've forgotten our childhood! You may not have been my only half-sibling, but you were always my favorite. Little Elliot, always so shy and scared... Not like your sister.”

He clicks his tongue. Tsk.

“Too demanding for her own good.”

I try to snort at the idea. Show my contempt. 

Like he senses my unspoken protest, he says “My mother, she was Swedish, blonde. Beautiful. Why he left her for your mother I will never know.”

He gives a nonchalant shrug.

But there's no reasoning with him. He's already gone off the edge. Lost touch with reality. 

His eyes burn pale blue like the inside of a flame. Like a madman.

“You were always mine,” he says.

I shudder like I'm cold. I think my teeth might be chattering.

He pulls me into his arms. 

I'm too weak to struggle. So I go, unresisting.

A surrender. I am not easy prey, my mind chants meaninglessly.

I let him rest my forehead in the hollow of his neck. I can hear the pulse of his bloodstream.

I could tear out his throat with my teeth. Instead I let my eyes close. Just for a moment.

It's intimate.

He says something softly. My ears feel scalded by the heat of his breath.

He says it again. This time, it connects, no glitches.

“Kiss me, Elliot.”

I pull away as if I've been burnt.

Cheeks flaming. Throat working. Stammering.

“W-what?”

“Come now.” He smiles like he knows a secret about me.

“I know you kissed Darlene. Fair's fair, after all.”

His accent renders his words nearly incomprehensible. 

How did he know? Did she tell him? Does Darlene know Tyrell? Did they laugh? Have they kissed?

I feel panic surging inside. I can't breathe.

Tyrell watches me with the clinical interest of a scientist inspecting a lab rat.

He strikes like a snake. Pins me with his mouth. 

Did he force my lips open, or did they fall?

Do you see this too?


	2. Chapter 2

I gather enough strength to pull away from the undertow of his wet warm mouth. Tyrell lets me go.

I mutter “I'm not gay.”

I can't meet his eyes.

I can hear his laugh. 

“Neither am I.”

“You're married.”

“Happily,” he says, but there's a tension there. 

Not a lie but there's more. There's always more.

“I love Angela,” I say, feebly.

It's true. Undeniable.

“And I love Joanna, and my child. These are not contradictory. My love for you does not conflict with my love for them.”

Love. So bald. So bold. How can this be true? 

But I know, somehow, it is.

He sits back and his thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. Like he used to stroke my shoulder when we were only strangers.

If we were ever strangers.

Somehow it feels erotic. 

I try to tug my hand away, but his grip tightens. Locking down.

I look at hand fingers circling my wrist. Dwarfing the bones, the tendons. It looks so fragile, this piece of me. Caged.

I look up to find him looking like he could peel back my skin. Devour me whole.

“That is not to say that, as a child, I ever envisioned a future without you by my side. This was before puberty, before sexuality. But even then, I knew that I wanted to crawl inside you and live there forever.”

I swallow. This is sick. Even if we aren't related.

“You sound like a serial killer.”

Or a rapist.

“Come now, Elliot, don't be mundane. It doesn't suit you.”

“An aversion to incest is mundane?”

He cocks his head like a cat. Knowingly.

“Big brother.” Mocking.

His eyes grow darker. He pulls me out of bed roughly.

I stumble and grab onto him.

“I think it's time for us to leave.”

I squint at the walls, the windows. Where are the nurses, the patients?

Aren't there cameras anywhere?

I'm with the most wanted man in the world.

So where is everybody?

I'm suddenly freezing, my backside bare in a hospital gown.

I expect him to lick his chops cartoonishly.

Instead, his eyes are darting, scanning.

I'm in so much pain I want to crumple to the ground.

Let him catch me, if he can.

“I have morphine. Let's go.”

No longer reverent; demanding.

“I will take you home.”

Home. 

I wonder what that means to him.


	3. Chapter 3

I stop in my tracks.

“I can't go anywhere like this. Bare-assed in a hospital gown. Everyone will know I'm a runaway.”

Tyrell immediately shrug off his blazer, starts to drape it over my shoulders.

I can tell from the way his eyes narrow that he likes the way I look. Swamped in his clothes.

“Yeah, this is not going to work.”

I make a beeline for my clothes, which somebody folded up on a chair by the bed.

I feel self-conscious, hyper-aware of his gaze on my body as I shuck off the hospital gown.

What's so attractive about something hunched and pale?

I'm stepping into my boxers when I feel him behind me. 

How did he move across the room so quietly? Like a panther. Some mythic jungle beast.

His hands take hold of my hips. I freeze, paralyzed.

“What are you doing?” I can hear my voice wavering.

“Touching you. Is that a problem?” He's taunting me, challenging.

“I thought we had to go.” I don't need to see his smile to feel it.

“That's not a no.”

His fingers lightly stroke between my ass cheeks. I seize up, trembling.

This is uncharted territory. How did I get here, allowing Tyrell Wellick to touch my ass crack? 

I think fleetingly of Shayla. Sweet Shayla. She had a strap-on in her room. She slept with girls sometimes, told me, teasingly, some boys like it too. I laughed it off. 

It scared me. The idea of being penetrated so deeply, by a man, by a woman... Seemed like the point of no return, a boundary I couldn't cross.

Tyrell traces around my asshole, softly. He doesn't venture inside.

He clicks his tongue again.

“You have fur here. Like a little rabbit.”

I hope he can't see my flush, skin burning bright beneath the olive flesh.   
It embarrasses me, to be looked at so intimately and be found – hairy. It infuriates me. I draw away from him, defensive. Waspish.

“What did you expect? Guys are hairy. Sorry to be such a disappointment.”

Joanna is the type of woman who probably bleaches her asshole as often as she has her nails manicured. 

Which again raises the question – what the hell is he doing here, with me?

“You are never a disappointment to me, lillebror.”

Lillebror.

I don't have to know Swedish to know what it means. Little brother.

The answer's obvious. Some kind of mind game, power play. Incest fetish.

Tyrell pets me again, like a domesticated animal.

“Will you let me wax you, one day?”

I have to huff a laugh at his audacity. He wants to wax my pubes.

“You're crazy.”

He presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. 

“We are both lunatics. That is why I am drawn to you, Elliot.”

“Okay, now will you let me get dressed?”

With a final squeeze of my behind – did Tyrell Wellick really just squeeze my ass like a pervy old man? – he leaves me be.

After slipping on my jeans, I pull my hoodie over my head. Feel like myself again. 

Secure, shrouded from the world.


End file.
